I'm Dreaming of a Vulcan Christmas
by Sensara
Summary: Set in the 50's, during "Carbon Creek". Tonya needed her sink fixed, but she certainly didn't expect the handyman to be handsome and exotic. And she didn't expect the blizzard and the power outage. Co-written with Fameanon, for dinopoodle, who we both love. Some chapters may be M, if we're so inclined. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: We own nothing. All property to its rightful owners.**_

_**We'd like to dedicate this fanfic to dinopoodle, who deserves it and so much more. Collaboration with Fameanon. She wrote this chapter. Enjoy!**_

Stron looked over at Mestral. He was sitting on the couch with his finger placed into a Vulcan meditation point. He looked down at his frozen fish stick dinner and cringed. He wondered passively why he volunteered to stay on Earth with his fellow officer. Looking back at Mestral who was mesmerized by some show called "I Love Lucy", Stron stood. He was about to walk over and shut the television off when the phone rang. He turned and picked up the receiver.

"Greetings. This is Stron."

He heard a small feminine sigh on the other end, _"Is this Mr. Stron, the man who fixes plumbing?"_

Stron turned away from looking at Mestral, as just looking at him was adding minutes to his meditation time. "It is, how may I assist you?"

"_I know it's late and after your normal hours, but…" _There was a small pause and the clatter of a tin pot sliding into a hollow space, and the pinging of water, then the slush of another full pot. "_Sir, I'm not exaggerating when I say if I can't get your services tonight, I may well have a ruined kitchen." _

Stron highly doubted the human's claim, he had heard such things come from the tiniest of leaks, but the prospect of fixing her plumbing issue was much more agreeable than a night of fish sticks and watching Mestral stare at that unintelligent glowing box. His mouth parted to take the offer of work when she spoke again, "_Sir, I don't have a lot of money…I umm.."_

"Your currency situation is of no matter." Stron said, as he reached out to gather his tools, "I will be over in a short time period, please, give me your location."

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Tonya could hear the tinking of water hitting the pot over and over. She shook her head and grabbed her cane so she could make it to the couch to put on her leg braces. She hated using a cane in front of people she was meeting for the first time, the braces weren't much better, but it was either that or potentially trip and fall. She had just pulled the last leather strap tight when she realized it was dinnertime. She had called him from his dinner, and his wife and probably children. She grimaced. How thoughtless. She pushed the red curls that had fallen into her eyes out of her face and then reached for her wallet. She had no more than ten dollars. It was all she had, and his services might be more, probably should be more given the late hour.

She stood and walked back to the kitchen, struggling a bit with her left leg, it was always slow to work after she put on her brace. She had cut up and cleaned vegetables, and boiled some lasagna noodles before her plumbing gave way. The least she could do was finish putting the vegetarian lasagna together before he arrived. He was probably a meat and potato man, but it wouldn't hurt to offer him a hot meal for coming out at this hour.

Tonya carefully put the lasagna together, and then stuck the bread stick in next to the pan. Standing so long was taking a bit of a toll on her back, so she walked carefully back to the living room to sit before Mr. Stron arrived."

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Stron put on his wool cap and scarf. Mestral wasn't paying attention, so he snatched his much thicker coat off the hook. He peered out the window: it was snowing. He glanced back at Mestral. "I am leaving for a job. I shall return."

Mestral nodded silently, never taking his eyes off the television.

"And I am never coming back."

"Take my jacket, the news reporter said that is going to have something called a blizzard coming, the precipitation will be significant." Mestral said without a tone in his voice, still watching the Lucy special.

Stron shook his head and left. The cold struck him immediately, and the crunch of snow under his shoes was loud. When he exhaled he could see his breath, and inwardly he cursed this disagreeable weather. The way he saw it, it was no wonder that humans were so aggressive, in this cold he found it difficult not to be so himself.

He stepped carefully down the stairs and out into the streets. As he looked around the vacant road his eyebrows rose. There were numerous strange lights in varied symbols lining the houses, and trees. He paused, looking at the homes he found it fascinating. There was a strange aesthetically pleasing sense to it, a feeling of calm in the twinkle of the lights shining in the white crystal of the snow. Were it not cold, he might be agreeable to walk all over the town just to take it in. With a sigh, he continued walking through the crunching white snow.

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Tonya heard a knock at her door, and immediately got up to answer. She nearly tripped on a loose section of rug, but managed to right herself by palming the wall. "I'm coming!" she called out, straightening herself. She limped the last few steps to the door and opened it. Her eyes went wide, he wasn't what she expected. In her mind, she imagined him being a short and dumpy balding man, middle aged, and grizzled. The man before her had chiseled features, and sticking out out from his wool cap was thick black hair. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes reflected the moon light that peeked out behind the dark clouds...and his eyes were beautiful.

"Mr. Stron?" Tonya managed, now self-conscious that she had not put on any make-up, or put combs in her unruly curly red hair.

"I am Stron," he returned. "May I enter your domicile? It is quite cold."

She blushed, "Oh, I'm sorry." She stepped away to allow him entrance. When he was in, she glanced out the door; the snow was picking up, coming quicker in small flakes. "It is a terrible night, Mr. Stron. I'm so sorry for dragging you out like this."

Stron was grateful when she shut the door and the warmth of her small house began seeping through his frozen layers of clothing. "My roommate said there is going to be a blizzard."

Tonya slipped her fingers into the collar of his jacket to help him off with it. "Oh my, that isn't good, Mr. Stron. You might get stuck here. I made food; I hope your wife won't be troubled."

Stron jumped at her touch around his neck. He looked back at her. "I am not mated…married," he replied. "What work do you have for me?"

Tonya hung his jacket on the hook of the door. She walked past Stron, who was now looking at the strange braces on her legs, but he looked away without asking a question. "It's right through here, Mr. Stron," she said, leading him to the kitchen area.

He shouldered his pack of tools, "May I ask you a question?"

Tonya cringed. _H__ere it comes_, she thought, _he's going to ask about my braces or my strange walk...might as well get this over with._ "Sure, Mr. Stron."

"On the walk over here, I saw the most agreeable arrangement of lights at each house. Can you tell me the significance of them?" he asked, squatting to open up the door to under the sink.

Tonya giggled with nervous relief, "That?" she smiled. "Mr. Stron, those are Christmas lights. Don't you have Christmas where you come from?"

Stron looked into the darkness under the sink and sighed; she had acted like everyone would know what this "Christmas" celebration was. "No, where I come from we have no such thing."

Tonya leaned against the cabinet watching him work. _H__ow exotic, _she thought. _H__e must come from the Middle East, like Egypt or something. _"Well, I made dinner, so after you're done, if you'd like to hear about it over dinner…"

Stron thought of the tasteless frozen dinner waiting on him, and equally tasteless company. "That would be agreeable, Miss…"

"Just Tonya," she replied softly.

"Tonya," Stron said, "just call me Stron."

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Tonya did not want to seem like she was hawking over him, so she left the kitchen. She looked out the window; the snow was coming quicker, and the wind was picking up too, so the visibility was such that she couldn't see the houses across the street. She glanced back at his legs sticking out from under the sink. The way it looked he might not be able to go home. She saw no car in her driveway, so he had to have walked. He couldn't walk home in this, he'd freeze to death.

Placing her hands on her hips, she sighed. There was a likelihood he'd have to stay with her. She had food to feed him, but did not know what she might do to entertain him. She couldn't afford a television, but… Her eyes widened and she walked down the hall to her spare room. If he didn't know what Christmas was, she was going to show him.

Pulling boxes from the storage one by one, she limped down the hall until the living room was nearly full. Meeting her about halfway down the hall as she struggled with the tree box, Strom gently pushed her aside and lifted it with one hand, "Is there a place you need this deposited."

Tonya swooned at the casual show of strength. "My goodness, Stron!" she exclaimed, putting her fingertips to her lips, "What an impressive show of strength!" She reached out and touched his bicep before he could say anything and gently felt its tautness. "You are a strong, strong man."

Stron flushed slightly at her touch, and was thankful his arm was covered by the thick fabric of his flannel shirt. "It is nothing, Tonya, though I would like to sit it down." He pretended to strain slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Stron." She blushed a light shade of pink, "This way."

"What is it that I am carrying? I watched you struggle with these boxes, are they important?" he asked, placing the box on the ground near the cleaned out corner.

"It is a Christmas tree, an artificial one. From the look of things outside, Stron, I didn't think you'd be able to walk home tonight. So, I thought after dinner I'd show you those Christmas lights you thought were so pretty." She folded her hands in front of her, and looked down at her feet, feeling suddenly very shy.

"How very thoughtful of you, Tonya." Stron said slowly. His brows furrowed. It concerned him that he might not make it home. He looked out the window and saw drifts creeping up the front of the house and the wind blustering through the street carrying on it more and more snow. As disconcerting as the thought was to stay here, it was more so to have to go outside. He estimated that the level was nearly up to his chest. He looked at the female before him, "Where is your mat…your husband?" He watched her turn nearly as red as her hair, and he wondered if he asked a shameful question.

"I have no husband, Stron. It's been just me in the house since my parents died two years ago." She turned and began limping to the kitchen. Inwardly she was cursing herself. She was getting tired, her muscles were aching, and now her strange gate was more apparent. She was hoping he wouldn't notice, but it was blaringly obvious to her.

Stron watched her walk to the kitchen and cocked his head. He had not spoken to or been around a human this closely for this long. He hated to admit it, but this human was agreeable. She was a tad emotional, but much less than he expected. She had been kind and courteous to him, and had not even questioned why he had not taken off his wool cap.

"Dinner is ready, Stron," she called carefully placing the food on the table.

Stron sat down at the table. He watched her spoon out food onto his plate, and place breadsticks next to it. He breathed a sigh of relief, there was no meat.

"I'm sorry I didn't make any meat, I don't eat it myself. And–"

Stron held up his hand, "There is no offense taken. I too do not eat meat." He was amazed by the broad bright smile he saw brighten her glittering green eyes. Then, it struck him. She was handing him a mug of what appeared to be tea. She had her hand on the bottom of the mug and was carefully handing it to him. Her eyes were locked with his. He felt his heart thud. _No, she doesn't know what that means. It is her being courteous. It must be a human custom. She couldn't know that offerings such as this were a proposal of…bonding. _His mouth went dry, and his hands were accepting the tea before his mind could stop it. His inner beast was purring.

"Can I get you anything else? Stron? Stron?"

Stron looked at her, "I did not…what did you say?"

"I wanted to know if I could get you anything else?" She asked and touched the back of his hand lightly.

Stron felt her thoughts briefly like a charge of electricity through his skin. He saw…she was attracted to him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to T'Sara, T'Mihn (our lovely Vulcan ladies – hey there *wink), Caren Rose, maba7x, PhinalPhantasy, 2redbird, and for reviewing. But especially, here's another chapter for you, dinopoodle, because you deserve it. :) Fame, it's an honor to write with you.**_

Stron set his fork down on the plate, leaning back in the chair. That was certainly the best meal he had eaten since coming to this planet. She smiled at him and leaned forward, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked him over.

"Was it good?"

He nodded. "That is the best food I have eaten since...coming here."

She seemed to glow with pride. "Do you want some dessert?"

"I have consumed enough calories," he said, but then stopped, thinking of how alien that sounded. "But dessert sounds delicious."

She smiled. "How does fruitcake sound? I swear my aunt's is the best in town."

He nodded and even offered her a small smile, and she got to her feet, carefully walking over to the counter to dish up the fruitcake, and he gathered the dishes off the table and put them in the newly-fixed sink. He filled the sink with water to wash the dishes, and he saw out of the corner of his eyes that Tonya was approaching him.

He glanced at her. "Is it alright if I wash up? You have enough on your hands, and its the least I could do, since you fed me that...very agreeable meal."

She blushed, and the thought that she was very agreeable in a different (much more pleasing) way crossed his mind. He blinked, thinking of Mestral and his fascination with humans, so he shoved the thought away. But still, a warm feeling entered his gut at her confused smile, which was surprisingly...endearing.

"Is something wrong?" He wondered briefly if he had committed a cultural faux pas.

"Well, no," she replied softly, setting the first dish he had rinsed onto the drying rack. "It's just...I'm not used to seeing a man wash up..."

"It's a habit now," he said, trying to cover his tracks. He did not want her to get suspicious. "My...cousin and I have to wash our own dishes and provide food for ourselves. Since you are...dishing up fruitcake, I thought I would take on this responsibility."

She blushed again and looked away, turning her attention to the fruitcake. By the time she had dished up two slices, the dishes were washed, rinsed, and sitting on the drying rack.

He sat down again and accepted one of the forks from the drying rack. She gingerly lowered herself into the chair and smiled at him as he took a bite of the cake. It was flavorful and unlike anything he had ever tasted. He wanted to moan with enjoyment, but he stayed silent, opting for a meaningful glance instead.

"You like it?"

"It is..." he struggled for a proper word, "succulent."

At his words, he saw her blue eyes darken, and two patches of pink appeared on her freckled cheeks.

"Have I said something wrong?" he asked, automatically stiffening at the thought.

"No, no, it's just your word choice...it's so colorful!"

His language seemed to please her, and the thought of that was making him want to blush, and he knew not why. He was grateful his ears were covered. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew the truth about him and Mestral. Surely she would despise him, or have him kicked out of town, or hand him over to her barbaric government to poke and prod.

But still, her smile, her red hair, her twinkling blue eyes, her kindness...they loosed things within him he had not felt in ages.

They finished their fruitcake in silence, and she took the dishes from him as he sat in the same armchair as before, looking inside the box nearest to him. Several trinkets of all sorts of materials were resting among newspaper and thin tissue paper. He carefully lifted one, a glittering snowflake made of glass, just as she walked in the door.

"Isn't it pretty? My...my dad gave that to my mom...before they died..."

"It is lovely," he admitted, carefully setting it back down in its bed of tissue paper.

"Can you help me assemble this tree?"

He nodded to her and helped her unpack the plastic branches, and the assembly was not very difficult. He had the branches organized in five minutes, and half the tree was assembled in another five. Another ten and the tree was complete and hung with the tiny, colorful, twinkling lights he had seen along the roofs of houses on the way over here.

She pulled out a tin of metal hooks, and she hung the glass snowflake on a branch in the middle of the tree. He caught on quickly and started handing her hooked trinkets (or ornaments as she called them), and she told him where each one came from. One, a wooden house small enough to fit comfortably in the palm of his hand, came from Texas, from a friend of hers from high school who had moved there after graduation. Most of the ornaments (glass balls, other, tinier snowflakes, some plastic animals) were her parents', and before that her grandparents', passed down through the years to a new generation.

When every branch held an ornament (so it seemed to him), she pulled from the box a star. It looked old and slightly tarnished, but she handed it to him so he could set it on top of the tree.

"That star came with my family, over from Europe way back in the day," she whispered. "It's been on the tree every year since then."

He stepped up to the tree to adjust some of the lights and to examine the star closer, and he cursed quietly in Vulcan when, somehow, his hair became stuck in the branches of the tree. He struggled for a moment, then glanced sideways to see what the problem was. He felt soft hands helping him (and her fingers brushed his several times, making electric jolts shoot down his spine, which wasn't helping matters), and when he was finally free, he looked at her and saw her staring at his ears.

He realized with a pang of horror that his ears had become uncovered, and he moved to cover them with hair, but he felt a soft hand grab his.

"No, don't," she whispered, examining them closer. She even reached out and touched one, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop from whimpering. Something about this...agreeable young woman touching him as if he were the finest piece of artwork in the sector...it was strangely stimulating. No woman had ever looked at him like this before.

"What happened?"

He rifled through possible excuses. "Birth defect," he said curtly, gently gripping her wrist to move it from his ear. She dropped her hand and he let her go, but she did not back away. If anything, she leaned forward, seemingly fascinated by his ears.

"They're beautiful," she breathed. "I can't believe you hide them...I mean, look at me over here. I get stuck with uneven legs, but you..."

He glanced down at her braces, then met her blue eyes again. "I noticed when I came, but...something more captivating distracted me from the extra equipment."

The moment it was out of his mouth, he cursed himself for saying it, and yet...he could not deny the truth of it. The beast in his chest was growling in its cage, longing to be heard. But he locked it away and covered his ears with his hair again, and she backed away and sat down.

"You know...you don't sound like you're a handyman. Did you go to college?"

He paused. "For a little while. Why do you ask?"

She shook her head at him. "You just...your language is so colorful. I feel like you should be...I don't know, teaching at a university or...writing a thought-provoking novel or something, not...fixing people's sinks."

She stood and walked to the window, and she glanced out onto the front porch. "It's getting pretty bad out there. I don't think there's any way you could get home, even if you wanted to."

"If you provide me with a blanket, I would be happy to sleep on your couch, if you would give me the space."

"No," she said, sitting back down. "You can take my parent's old bedroom and I'll sleep in my room...unless you really like this Christmas tree. But this couch isn't that comfortable, and I think you'll like Mom's old bed better."

He nodded, then paused. "If you don't mind me asking...how did your parents die?"

Her blue eyes filled with pain, but she swallowed thickly. "Um...they died in a car accident."

He bowed his head; he disliked those noisy transportation devices and knew from the history books that burning fossil fuels was very bad for the environment.

"I grieve with thee," he whispered, and she stared at him with a somber smile.

"See, there you go again. You're sure you're not a poet?" she teased, and a warm feeling sprung up in his chest. She really was an agreeable female, an agreeable person...

He blinked. "I am not, I assure you. It is...the traditional thing to say from...my home."

"It's a beautiful sentiment. I like it," she said softly. "But that was years ago...still hurts, but...you know, eventually, you just...move on with life."

Stron nodded, partially hating and partially enjoying how potent her words were. His wife, T'Val, had left him two years ago. Their relationship had been weak, and it was no extreme loss. He had occupied his time with the Science Directorate and space exploration, and he had willingly volunteered for this mission to survey the Sol system, as it was the furthest away from Vulcan he had ever been. There were days when he wondered if he could have done something differently to keep T'Val with him, but no reasonable explanation presented itself. They were simply not compatible, and it would not have been fortuitous to keep her by his side anyway.

That realization had been growing on him ever since he had come to Earth, and he suspected that trying to begin again, even in the most extreme way, was one of the reasons he had chosen to stay here. Perhaps he also thought deep down that there was more to this people than violence and disagreeable food. Tonya especially had shown him a much kinder, softer side of humanity, and he liked the different perspective, for all his complaints about his planet.

"Your words are true," he agreed, his voice soft. They sat in comfortable silence for a long while, and he gazed at the tree. It was an aesthetically pleasing sight, all the twinkling lights reflecting off the glass, making the dim room glow with soft light.

Then, the lights went out.

"Wonderful," Tonya muttered, and he heard her get to her feet. There was little light in the place, but he had noticed a fireplace on the wall opposite the door.

"Is your fireplace functioning?"

"Yes, the wood pile is outside, though, getting soaked, I'll bet."

"I will retrieve some. We need some light to see."

"I'll get some candles."

He didn't quite know why he volunteered to brave the bitter cold to fetch the wood for her, but something primal within him was strumming. He was being brave for her, helping her, making things easier for her. He shoved the thought away before it could go further. He may be stuck on this planet now, but she would never understand his true nature, the shame of Vulcan men. She would never accept it, or him.

It took them almost an hour to let the wood dry and light the fire, but soon they had a merry blaze. By the time the fire was warm enough to heat the room, her eyes were drooping, and he saw her head nod several times.

Without a word, he picked her up and set her on the couch, then fetched some blankets from her room. He made sure she was properly covered before returning to the hearth, where it was warmest. The wind was still howling outside, but by the fire...the winter weather did not seem so disagreeable. Snow was lovely to look at, even if it was disagreeable to be in, but for the moment he was safe and warm.

His eyes drifted to her sleeping form and her inadequate braces, and he got up and brought the equipment closer to the fire, so he could examine them. The wheels in his mind were starting to churn, and he was desperate for a chance to show his true skills as an engineer in the Science Directorate.

He looked closer at the workings of her braces, and he began to sketch his plan in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to Mestral, dinopoodle, Caren Rose and 2redbird for reviewing!**_

Stron put the braces aside. He had it in his mind now, how he could show that he was more than a simple plumber. Staring at the fire in the hearth he didn't know why it was so imperative he did, but even in meditation he found that he could not suppress the desire. Sometime after his meditation he laid back watching the tree, dark except for the reflection of the fire in the baubles on the limbs.

The warmth of the fire, the good food, the agreeable company, it was all soothing. His eyes began to feel heavy; he was calmer now than he had been since they arrived on the planet. He closed his eyes one more time and fell fast asleep.

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Tonya's eyes popped open wide and she sat up. She looked over and saw Stron lying near the fire and she gasped. He had slept next to the hearth all night, with no blanket and no pillow. She slapped her palm to her face. She felt like a terrible hostess.

Looking over at him again she felt the heat spreading over her cheeks. He looked so…calm, so peaceful, so…handsome. Her heart fluttered, and she swallowed down the attraction she felt to him. There was no way he'd feel that way about her. He was so well spoken. She slid her legs over the couch and noticed he had covered her with blankets. Her heart fluttered again.

She looked at him again and saw her braces near him and her cane was nowhere near. She frowned and slid onto her knees to crawl over to where her braces were, right next to him.

She shuffled quietly, her hair spilling down over her shoulders as she went, and just as she reached her braces, the softest fingertips she had ever felt ran through her unruly red hair to uncover her blushing face.

"Are you well?" Stron asked with a groggy masculine drawl.

Tonya gasped, no man had ever touched her like that, "Yeah, I'm…just getting my braces." She looked up at him. His sleepy eyes and relaxed posture made it seem like she should lean over and kiss him. She began to move, but stopped herself as he stretched. Just as well, she thought, it wasn't proper for a woman to make the first move.

"I apologize." He said sitting up, "It is tradition in my…family, that the guest rises early and makes breakfast for the person hosting them. Apparently, the cold fatigued me more than I realized."

Tonya retreated slightly and began trying to put her braces on as quickly as possible. "It's not a problem Stron, I would…you shouldn't…I mean being a man and all it's my place to make you breakfast."

She carefully stood and began walking toward the kitchen. She looked back at him, "I'm sorry, I fell asleep on you. You should have just taken a bed. Anyway, let me get you some breakfast and some coffee before you leave…ok?"

Stron nodded, his eyes never leaving her disheveled look. She was so kind and all he saw made his beast purr the phrase _desirable mate_ into his ears. "Thank you, Tonya. That would be, agreeable." He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips that did not quiet form.

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Stron entered his shared apartment and Mestral greeted him immediately, "I was concerned for your welfare, Stron. It is not like you to be gone all night, especially in a cold evening."

Stron could not make eye contact with him for reasons he could not yet grasp, "I was trapped at a client's home for the evening. "He said moving to the kitchen area to put down his tools.

Mestral watched him and both of his eyebrows are raised, "You seem…disquieted Stron...are you…"

"I am adequate, Mestral. Really, your questioning is tiresome." He turned, still not making eye contact with him, but giving him an irritated growl.

Mestral nodded, "Very well. I was simply concerned."

Stron opened their icebox and pulled a pint of juice from its confines, "Mestral?"

Mestral sat on the couch, "Yes?"

"Are you and Maggie…" he poured the juice and stared at it, "Intimate?"

Mestral stopped looking at the magazine he had just opened and looked at him. "That is a highly personal question, Stron. One I do not think you need the answer to."

Stron turned to Mestral and finally made eye contact with him, and Mestral's eyes widened. "You have found a potential mate," he said with more than a little awe in his voice, and then nodded his head as Mestral looked away again. "Yes." Mestral said immediately. "We have, and I have found that we are compatible, physically."

Stron looked at his juice and then took a sip, "Thank you." He said simply and then went to his room.

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Mestral approached Stron who was working on a contraption at the table, "Maggie stated that you would be welcome at the Christmas Eve gathering, Stron, even if I stay the night you can return here if you are more comfortable."

"I have no desire to attend the gathering, Mestral." He said, putting the final touches on the contraption. "I will not look for you to be home this evening or tomorrow. "

Mestral shouldered his small pack and picked up the wrapped presents from the table, "That is logical, Stron. Have a pleasant evening." Mestral looked over his shoulder and Stron was staring at what he had been working on for the last three weeks. He opened the door and walked out into the evening. There was something going on with Stron, and he was curious to know what, but he was more focused on getting to Maggie's gathering.

Stron got up from the table and went to his room. He retrieved the box and decorative paper he had bought. He had expertly hidden it from Mestral, but with his companion gone he could finish his project. He returned to the table placing his project into the box and wrapping it all up with the decorative paper he had been advised was customary for this holiday occasion.

Once he was satisfied that it was wrapped properly, he put on his winter jacket and a hat and ventured out into the fading light of the evening. He walked with a purpose toward the home of the person he planned on presenting this gift.

Huffing through the cold and snow he found he was slightly irritated with himself. Three weeks of meditation had not cleared his mind of this young woman, who if he had to guess was in her early twenties, in earth time, and he was…older than that, and Vulcan, and…none of this made logical sense to him. What he did know made him climb through the ice and the snow in his best blue flannel shirt with freshly trimmed hair, bearing a Christmas gift he had made himself.

He paused at the foot of her drive and looked up. The tree lights were on and he saw her in the bay window lighting a fire. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath of the crisp air. He ascended the drive practicing his greeting in his mind.

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Tonya made some egg nog and lit the fire place. It was a lonely night. Everyone was with their family, and she was planning on listening to the radio programs of the night and turn in early. The eggnog warmed her stomach though and the cinnamon felt good on her tongue. There were many out there tonight less fortunate than she, and she would remind herself of that.

She had just leaned back on the couch when she heard a knock at the door. She put down her drink and called out, "Just a minute!" she paused at the mirror on the fall and frowned. She had not bothered to put her long red hair up, it was just tumbling over her shoulders. Other than that, she looked fine so she made her way, with care toward the door.

Stron removed his hat. He looked at his reflection in the glass of the door and quickly flattened his hair down from the disarray the hat had caused. When the door opened he stood stiffer, clearing his throat, "I present you this gift for the holiday of Christmas, Tonya." He held up the carefully wrapped present waiting for her to take it.

Tonya smiled brightly, "Stron! You didn't have to do this." She gushed and took the large box from his hands. As she looked at it she noticed he was walking way, "Stron? " she frowned, "Where are you going?"

Stron looked back, and twisted his knit cap in his hands, "I did not think you would want me to be here on such an occasion as this holiday. I merely wanted to give you the gift, as is human…as is custom."

Tonya put her hand on her hip, "Unless you have some place you would rather be….I'd love you to come in and at least have a drink with me."

Stron saw the sparkle of the snow in her bright blue eyes, before he replied he was walking toward her. "I would be agreeable to that. My cousin is away, there is no one where I live, nothing to do."

Tonya stepped aside, "Come in Strom. I made a little veggie platter with hummus and dips, and Egg nog. It's not much, but I don't have anyone to share with…I'd love to share this holiday with you Stron."

He entered and took the large box from her, "Then allow me to carry it into the house for you and place it, as is customary, under the tree." He was proud of himself for reading up on the traditions at this holiday, so he would appear to be in the know.

Tonya shut the door and smiled as she watched Stron carry the box in and place it "just so" under the tree. She walked over carefully to him and was at his side when he stood to present it's placement, "Is it agreeable there?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, "It's perfect, Stron. Thank you so much."

Stron felt the heat of his body rise. He did not expect such…intimacy for the gift but he found her arms around him agreeable. He did not know how to reply, and cursed himself for not looking up the proper human response. "It is just something I made, Tonya."

Tonya pulled away and looked into his eyes, "That's even more special Stron." She did not know if it was the night, or the rum she put in the egg nog, but before she knew it she pressed her lips against his.

Stron's eyes fluttered closed and his palms finally found her sides. His beast was crying in the back of his mind that it was time for her to take her, to make her his, but before it could press him into action she had pulled back. He was left blinking watching her struggle to walk toward the kitchen.

"Can I get you a plate of food?"

"A drink only," he said softly, his fingertips moving to his lips, still moist with her kiss. His eye brow rose, "And then you must open your gift." He said, his logical mind wondering with curiosity what reaction his actual gift might cause, if the concept of the gift had caused that reaction.

Tonya brought him back a glass of eggnog, with freshly ground cinnamon sprinkled generously over the top. "Are you sure you want me to open it now? It looks like you put a lot of effort into wrapping it, it almost seems a shame to open it now."

The aroma of the cinnamon hit his nose and he fought moaning. It was such a sensual scent, and it reminded him of the taste on his lips. He took a greedy sip and nodded, "Please, open it. I am curious to see if you like what I have made. It is crudely made, but I did not have all the tools I usually require at my disposal."

She grinned, "If you insist, but." Tonya frowned, "I have nothing to give you."

Stron swallowed down the rest of the nog, "You already have. May I have another?"

Tonya giggled, "Of course," she started to move, but he put his hand on her shoulder, "I will get it, "he said, "Please, open your gift."

She blushed softly, "Ok, and the cinnamon is next to the bowl, sprinkle it on top."

He bowed slightly and left her to open her package.

Tonya tried to be careful as she unwrapped the gift but her excitement got the better of her. She found herself tearing through the paper and opening the box much quicker than she wanted. When she opened the flap of the box she could not think, or speak.

"Do you like them?" Stron asked looking over her shoulder sipping his egg nog.

"You couldn't have made these." Tonya said breathlessly.

Stron frowned, "But I did."

She pulled out of the box two new braces that were more modern than the ones she wanted but could not afford to get. Tears welled up in her eyes, "Stron, I…I…don't know what to say."

Stron looked down and his eyebrows shot up, "I have not…upset you have I?"

She put them down and carefully got up. She took the glass from his hand, placing it down on the table she then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.

His beast purred, and was much quicker to react this time. His hands found her sides, and his mouth parted to welcome this agreeable style of kissing. He felt Tonya relax into his touch, against his lips, and he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer to him until he was holding her tight against his body. She did not fight or struggle away from him, and he began guiding them down onto the floor. When they were sitting he felt her pull away. His eyes opened and the logical side of him wondered if he had gone "too far."

"Stron." Tonya purred softly, "I don't want you to think I am a woman of…bad character, but" he watched her freckles glow from the blush as she continued, "I think I know what I might like to give you for Christmas." She bit her lower lip and began unbuttoning the pearl shaped buttons of her angora sweater.

Stron stared at her, "Why would I…see that as…making you a woman of ill character?"

"I've never done _this_ before, Stron, but I'm told good girls don't make love to a man on the first date…" She purred and opened her sweater revealing a lacy heart shaped undergarment.

Stron gaped and swallowed, "Then I think it would only be logical if I made you my mate…errr…wife." He moved and embraced her, his lips capturing hers, as he touched her alien body for the first time. There would be much to explain, but now he was opening his first Christmas gift on earth, given to him by his new human angel.

_**A/N: Once again, thank you so much to Fameanon for writing this chapter. We've decided to end this installment here, and we'll do a side series following these two and Mestral and Maggie. Thank you all for reviewing! And a very Merry Christmas to you all, but mostly to dinopoodle!**_


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